Escape from Earth: New Adventures in Space

by Jack Dann

  “What’s this?” Pop said to Mama. “I thought it was just Andi going this time.”

  “Damon’s going into the Clinic for a full evaluation,” Mama said. Andi watched carefully. If Pop hadn’t made the original decision, he might still overrule Mama.

  “Are you sure that’s necessary?” he asked. He glanced at Andi, a warmer look than she ever got from Mama. “I promised her—”

  “Yes,” Mama said. “I queried the Clinic; they have an open slot and they think it’s urgent.”

  “Ennhuhhh!” Damon jerked back and fell out of his chair. Oscar was there before Andi could move, cradling Damon’s head, making sure his airway was clear. Damon continued to grunt and jerk about; it had scared Andi the first time she saw it, but now it was just Damon. Gerry wiped up the spilled food and took Damon’s bowl to Bird.

  “All right,” Pop said. “I can see he’s getting worse. But it has to be covered by the agreement. We can’t afford—”

  “It is. They said so. It’s impaired his functionality—Andi, why are you standing there like a stupid cow? Go pack for yourself and Bird.”

  Andi headed to the girls’ dorm.

  “And don’t even try to get on comm!” Mama yelled after her. “Pack up and get right back out here.”

  Did that mean they were leaving tonight, like the original plan? That meant she would be at Base by early first shift, plenty of time to take the exam if only Mama hadn’t said she couldn’t. Andi pulled out two duffels and packed them both with the same pajamas, underwear, spare jumpsuit. She was so tired of cheap, practical gray.

  Last time Beth had had a pink and white shirt and pink skirt; Vinnie’s shirt and skirt had been yellow, the shirt with yellow flowers on a pale green background. All the other girls had worn colorful clothes, too. Now Vinnie had a new shirt, “the green of new leaves,” she’d said. Beth had a blue one. They didn’t wear jumpsuits, the Base kids. This year, Beth said, they were wearing loose pants, above knee length, and short full shirts. And shoes that had just come in from Earth, bright colored shoes. Even the boys.

  The prices she quoted for these things had shocked Andi. Andi had saved her allowance and every credit she made by working overtime—Pop gave her a quarter of the profit for those hours—and it was enough for the exam and licensing fee, plus maybe one item, maybe two if she skimped on meals. Shirt? Short pants? Shoes?

  But now—Andi slammed her own folded jumpsuit down into the duffel as if she could break it, and yanked the zipper closed. Now she wasn’t even going to get any shopping at all. Or take the exam. And she’d forgotten the toiletries. She grabbed toothbrushes, combs, and glared at her image in the mirror. She looked like a child, still. She was short; her face was round as a baby’s; her hair, cropped to a shiny black cap on her round head like some stupid doll. If she had cosmetics, would that help? A different hairstyle? Vinnie and Beth talked about how their faces and bodies had changed shape, how they had done things with their hair, how they stole chances to use their mothers’ cosmetics.

  She tried to imagine herself the way she might be as an adult—the adult she wanted to be. Tall, svelte, her black hair long and curling around her shoulders, actual cheekbones where she had those round cheeks. She would wear bright colors, clothes that rippled and flowed when she moved. She moved into the familiar fantasy . . . Andi Murchison, walking into a room where everyone turned to look, and she saw admiration and envy on all the faces . . . especially on the face of the old, dowdy, shrunken woman in the corner. Mama. She would come back and show Mama what Mama had never recognized—what a remarkable person she was—

  “Andi! Stop wool-gathering and get out here!”

  But not yet. Andi gathered up the two duffels and went back to the living space. Damon was sitting up now, looking dazed but not quite blank as Gerry helped him into one of the orange pressure suits. Damon was actually moving his arms and legs the right way. Mama already had her pressure suit on, her duffel at her side, and three more suits were laid out, waiting. Pop had an unhappy expression; his eyes looked sad, even pleading when he looked at Andi. She hated that look, which came more and more often; it made her uncomfortable when they were alone. Oscar was gone, probably cleaning up Damon’s underwear.

  “Get Bird suited,” Mama ordered.

  Andi put the suit on Bird, then wriggled into her own. It still fit easily; they had bought it a size large, expecting her to grow, and it was still a little loose. Better that than too tight. Gerry barely fit into his.

  “I’ll be back day after tomorrow, probably,” Mama said to Pop. “At most the day after that. Try to keep things running—” She sounded as if she expected him to mess up.

  He nodded. “Take care, Mama.”

  “I always do,” Mama said. She started down the passage to the shuttle dock. Andi picked up her duffel and Bird’s, and nudged Bird ahead of her down the passage.

  After settling the younger children in their seats and making sure their safety harnesses were fastened correctly, Andi climbed through the hatch into the cockpit and settled into the right-hand seat. Mama, in the command seat, gave her a quick glance. “Checklist two,” she said.

  Andi helped work through the next two preflight lists. She had studied this; she had spent hours in the shuttle itself with the simulator running, first with Pop supervising her, then alone, every time the shuttle wasn’t in use and she could find time from school, chores, work. She knew the lists backwards and forwards, knew the correct settings. Powering on, unhitching the umbilicals from the habitat, sealing the habitat so it wouldn’t lose atmosphere, testing every circuit, every linkage.

  “Preflight complete,” Mama said finally. She was linked to Pop, back in the habitat’s main room. “See you later.”

  The shuttle jerked away from the habitat. Andi was sure she could do better than that. In the last few weeks, her simulated launches had all been smoother than this. When they were level and on course to Base, Mama set the autopilot.

  “Put the children down for sleep, Andi,” Mama said.

  Andi climbed back through the cockpit hatch. Gerry already had his seat flattened; she helped Damon and Bird flatten theirs, and made sure that Damon was positioned on his side, with his stuffed lamb and his pillow. She turned down the lights in that compartment, and pulled the cockpit hatch almost closed after climbing back through.

  “You’ve got to learn to face facts, Andi,” Mama said, when Andi clambered back into her seat. “I know you thought you were going to have a grand time at Base, hobnobbing with Base kids, wasting money on some kind of fancy something— probably clothes, the age you are—but that’s not the kind of life you’re going to have, and you might as well face up to it now.”

  Andi said nothing, but she felt a slow burn rising inside. She would have had a grand time, and she was going to have a good life, somehow, no matter what Mama said.

  “It wouldn’t have worked even if we’d had the time and money to stay,” Mama went on. “They aren’t your type, Andi. I knew plenty of that kind back on Earth. It’s all right when you’re a little kid, like you were last time. Their parents don’t mind so much, and they get a glow out of feeling superior. But they won’t ever be friends, real friends.”

  Andi stared out the window at the rumpled icy landscape below, the sky dominated by colorful Jupiter and its surrounding satellites, trying not to listen. So she was different—they were Base kids and maybe they had gene-parents. She was a habitateur, adopted. But why did that matter? They had come together so easily before . . . they had stayed in contact. . . they had shown no signs of getting tired of her. They were the only friends she’d ever had, and anyway they were the ones who suggested having lunch, going shopping. Mama just wanted her to stay isolated, have no friends. Mama didn’t trust anyone.

  “Andi! Are you even listening?”

  “Yes, Mama.” Andi looked over at Mama: the hard, lined face, the angry eyes, the tense, taut mouth. “You don’t think they like me.”

  Mama’s breath c
ame out in an explosive gust. “It’s more than that, girl. Children like that—they all go to school together, hang out together. They’re a group, a ... a clique. You’ve never been in a situation like that—”

  “It’s not my fault,” Andi said. She could hear the sullenness in her own voice, and hated it, but she had imagined so many times how wonderful it would be to go to a real school, with other children, away from Mama for all those hours.

  “No, it’s not,” Mama said. Now she was looking out the window, and her profile looked as much sad as angry. “Andi, the thing is, it’s not fair. Nothing is. It’s not your fault that you have to do schoolwork alone, but even if you were in school, in a regular class, it doesn’t mean you’d enjoy it, that it would go well. If you’re one of the children the other children don’t like—there are always some—it’s no fun at all.”

  “Vinnie and Beth like me,” Andi said. “Why are you so sure the others wouldn’t?”

  “You’re . . . different,” Mama said. “Children don’t like the different ones, not very long anyway. Just like you don’t like Damon. You’re short; you’re not pretty—that’s not an insult, it’s the truth and you need to face up to it. And yet you’re smart. Short, less than plain, and way too smart—the other children wouldn’t put up with that. They might feel sorry for you, but like you? No.”

  Andi felt herself shrinking into the seat. She knew she was short. She knew she wasn’t beautiful. But. . . less than plain? Did that mean ugly? Those times Mama had said Get your ugly butt in here right this minute!—was that only a plain description, not just Mama being angry? And like Damon? She wasn’t anything like Damon.

  “All you got going for you, Andi, is being smart and being able to work hard. That doesn’t make an easy life, as I know well, but it’s better than no life at all. That’s what we’re teaching you, me and Jim, how to work hard so you can be useful. Useful people survive; useless—” Her glance drifted past Andi to the compartment behind them.

  Andi felt as if she’d been dipped in ice. What was that look? Mama’s looks always meant something. Who was useless? Damon? Was he going to die? Was that what would happen at the Clinic? Panic and horror choked her; she turned quickly to stare at the instruments to her right.

  “You’d better get some sleep,” Mama said then. “I’ll take first watch; I’ll wake you later. You can have command until we’re on approach to Base.”

  Andi reclined her seat, turned on her side away from Mama, and closed her eyes. She could not sleep; everything Mama said went around and around in her mind, especially that about useless people. What was going to happen to Damon? Mama was right about one thing: she didn’t like Damon, really—and was that how ordinary kids would feel about her?—but she’d assumed the Clinic would fix him, make him well.

  And what about her exam? She had to get it; she couldn’t wait until the next trip, whenever that might be. A license was her one chance out. Pop had signed for her to take the exam this early, a hardship case; he wanted her to come out with him in the shuttle, prospecting, and whoever went with him had to have a license just in case. Now that Oscar could run the processing machinery, that gave Andi a chance for shuttle duty. She’d rather be in the shuttle with Pop than in the habitat with Mama, but more than that, a shuttle license, even a Class C, was her one chance to get out of the trap she felt closing around her.

  Finally she fell asleep, and then Mama was shaking her by the shoulder. She woke up, yawning, then sat staring at the window while Mama snored in the other seat, until the autopilot binged, telling them to contact Base Traffic Control. During those hours, she came up with what might be a plan, if she could get Gerry to agree, if Mama didn’t suspect. She was already on the list for the exam; they would be at Base in plenty of time. If she could sneak off and take the exam . . . Mama would be furious later, but too late. To do that, she’d have to keep Gerry and Bird from tattling. Gerry would be the worst. . . Gerry didn’t do anything without a payoff, and all she had to bribe him with was her savings, what she’d planned to spend on food and shopping. Bird was usually biddable, and Andi could save back enough to promise her a treat. It was Bird’s first trip to Base since her adoption; anything would do. She hoped. If Mama found out. . . she didn’t want to think about that.

  Ahead, she could now see the huge low dome of Base sticking up above the icy plain, the shuttle docking bays around its perimeter. Base was mostly underground—under-ice, anyway— level after level, Vinnie and Beth had told her. They lived twelve stories down.

  Mama made the docking connection competently enough; Andi mentally critiqued every move. She’d have applied the lateral thrusters two seconds earlier, at less power, and that would have brought them to zero motion relative more smoothly. But Mama was within parameters. Base Traffic Control congratulated her on a safe docking, and authorized the hookup of ship’s umbilicals.

  “I’ve made appointments for all of you to get your physicals,” Mama said when she’d turned off the comm. “Saves a trip and you’re overdue anyway. Get the others awake and cleaned up; we’ll eat ship rations for breakfast. Oh—I almost forgot. Here’s a pill you should take.” She fished a bubble-pack of pills out of her pocket and tore off one for Andi.

  “What is it?” Andi asked, as she had before without getting an answer.

  “Just take it,” Mama said, as she had.

  Andi nodded, and went back to wake the others. Typical of Mama to come up with something else unpleasant for her to do, something else that got in the way of her own plans. Last time her Clinic evaluation had taken just under an hour ... if it didn’t last any longer this time, she might still make it to the exam. In the process of getting the other children up, handing out food bars and water, supervising bathroom visits and toothbrushing, and revising her original plan to adapt to Clinic checkups, she forgot the pill she’d tucked into her front pocket.

  Then it was time to go to the Clinic, and Mama led them at a brisk pace out of the docking area and along sloping passages. Andi pointed out the wall maps to Gerry and Bird. Even here, there were more people around, enough that Bird’s small hand in hers grew wet with tension.

  “How many people are on Base?” Gerry asked, looking around.

  “Too many,” Mama said. “And none of them trustworthy. Keep that in mind, all of you.”

  “They’re all bad?” Gerry asked.

  “They try to trick us into spending more money than we have; they hope we can’t pay fees and they can seize the shuttle or even our habitats, make us employees, not independents. Company serfs. And don’t forget the workforce pirates. If you think you have a hard life now—” Mama looked directly at Andi as she said this, '‘it’s nothing to what the workforce pirates do to children. Company serfs at least get paid; pirate slaves get nothing.”

  Gerry looked thoughtful but not subdued.

  When they arrived at the Clinic, Mama checked them all in. “I’m going to be with Damon for his workup,”, she said. “Andi, you’re in charge of Gerry and Beth. All three of you will get your checkup, and then wait for me—”

  Andi had already planned for this. She looked around the waiting area as if seriously considering its possibilities, then shook her head. “Mama, you know how restless Bird is. There’s nothing here for her to play with. Can’t I take them to the playground and let her enjoy that? With me along, it shouldn’t cost anything.”

  Mama looked at Bird, who was already shifting from foot to foot, and then back at Andi. “You don’t fool me,” she said. Andi’s heart sank. “You just want to play yourself, and you’re hoping to meet those girls. But—” Another look at Bird and then Gerry. Andi tried not to show anything on her face. “I suppose it can’t hurt,” Mama said. “And you have money, if it does cost— it was your idea; you can spend your own money on it. We’ll be here through lunch, anyway, and you have to eat somewhere. Is there a place near the playground? Or you could go to Boone Concourse if you’re really careful and stay together. You won’t get lost, will
you?”

  “I won’t get lost, Mama,” Andi said. “I know how to read the maps on the walls. And Bird will enjoy the playground.” She was careful not to catch Gerry’s eye; he would know she was up to something, but he wouldn’t know what. She hoped. And he wouldn’t tell Mama anything until he was sure it was worth telling.

  Andi and Bird were called in while Mama was still waiting. The medical exam was as annoying and embarrassing as always.

  “You’re twelve?” the woman in the flowered smock asked, looking up from the record.

  “Yes,” Andi said. “And I’m short and yes, it’s in my gene scan, and no, it’s not associated with any developmental problems.”

  The woman flushed. “I didn’t say—”

  “You were going to ask. They always do.”

  “Touchy about it, aren’t you?” the woman asked.

  “You would be too, if people thought you were years younger than you are,” Andi said.

  “I can see that,” the woman said. “Your other metrics all look good, though. How do you feel about adolescence?”

  Andi stared at her. “Feel about it? How am I supposed to feel about it? It’s going to happen no matter what I do, and I’m still going to be stuck on a subsistence habitat with—” she glanced at Bird, who was staring at her, mouth open, and moderated what she’d almost said. “Legally, I must stay with my family-of-record until I’m sixteen,” she said. “There’s nobody at the habitat my age, and we haven’t been to Base for the past five hundred days. I don’t have any friends—”

  “So you resent it?”

  “And I’m short and not exactly a raving beauty. Not that it matters, since there aren't any boys except my brothers in my habitat anyway.”

  “I sense hostility,” the woman said.

  Andi laughed. “Hostility? None at all. Why would I be hostile? I’m one of the luckiest kids in the universe. I’m a space pioneer on Ganymede and someday they’ll write stories about us. Little Habitat in Ice or something.”